Barack Obama gazes at the moon while a nearby Secret Service agent balances a snowboard on his head. Meanwhile, just off camera, a bonfire fueled by mass-printed dollar bills casts a warm red glow on vehicles in the presidential motorcade, courtesy of the Treasury Department.

Just as the cars explode and a huge fireball fills the screen the helicopter blades chop off the President’s head and the 3D effect makes it look like its flying into the face of the audience followed by the ginormeous exploding ball of flame.

Barack Obama, standing in the open, waiting for his alien masters to take him home after destroying America. Soon, the cables will descend and attach to the handles on either side of his head, lifting him up to the waiting ship.

And the notion that somehow as a consequence of me knowing somebody who engaged in incredible acts 40 years ago when I was 8 years old, somehow reflects on me and my values, doesn’t make much sense, George.

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